


to sleep in shade

by twicedamnedharlot



Category: One Piece
Genre: Gen, Nakamaship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 13:03:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1689278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twicedamnedharlot/pseuds/twicedamnedharlot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Most days, she does alright. [Mid time-skip oneshot]</p>
            </blockquote>





	to sleep in shade

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a few years since I've written anything for myself and it's hard getting back into it. Please put up with it for as much as you can.

Most days, she does alright.

In fact, most days Nami's busy studying the Weather Wizards meticulously recorded tomes on meteorology, out in the fields either harvesting or planting weather balls, bartering more effectively and more aggressively on the islands they come across.

It's when she's in the middle of these things, in one of the smaller tasks that's more repetitive or doesn't require much thought to it that her anxieties come. Usually, at the official beginning of the Separation, she worried about Luffy. The message he sent them obviously wasn't his idea, so he must have had someone he trusts with him to think out plans like that. But she worries if it's what he _needs_. She remembers being small and seized upon the memory of Bellemere at moments (her body arcing against the foreground of tangerine trees, the terrible hole where her beautiful smile once was) and ruining entire maps with the too rough lines and water stains. It's a dull ache now, even if the memory is just as vivid, but it's one that she has learned over many lonely days and nights on how to deal with herself; but for Luffy, the pain is too recent, and she still fights the urge, even months after, to hijack another craft and race to whatever island he's being hidden and hold him and comfort him and reassure herself that he's fine (with her, with nakama, not alone and learning how to piece back his heart by himself).

These thoughts lead to others, anxieties becoming so terrible that sometimes she can't reason with them even when she knows the truth to these arguments. Worrying if Zoro won't show up in two years because he's lost, even though he always eventually turns up when he needs to be. Worrying if Chopper's kindness and trusting nature hasn't gotten him into trouble, even though he's gotten better at it judging other's character. Worrying if Robin is deep in enemy territory by herself, even though she's been doing it for twenty years. Worrying if Brook's insanity is being tempered with more unbearable loneliness, even though, even though, even though--

She demands more work from the Wizards, enough so that she'll later drag herself back to her quarters exhausted and beaten to sleep until her body wakes the next morning to start all over again.

Those thoughts aren't the worst though, she decides later, to herself, on another island, in another village. It's--

It's muscle memory as she stops herself from looking over her shoulder after she's passed a bookstore, to make sure that Chopper is still trailing after her. It's rolling over on a cold night, to remember that the bed is smaller than she's still not used to, that Robin is not there for her to nestle close to. It's sitting down at a restaurant and not having Sanji to gossip with about the imbalance between the prices and the overcooked steak. It's the stillness in the air as she looks up from her map making as she suddenly realizes it's too quiet, that she had been trying to listen to the rhythmic clinking of weights lifting and falling, the tumble of bodies wrestling in the grass, excited shouts and high-pitched whines around meal times, the movement of waves rocking her home.

A long time ago, Nami promised herself she would never cry again. The only amendment she has ever made to that after the defeat of Arlong is that she will never cry for herself (honestly, she wonders if she's forgotten how). But, God, if she occasionally finds it hard to walk a step forward when she's seized by this nostalgia, to get up out of bed, or to rise back onto her feet. She has learned a long time ago not to cry, the only suitable substitute she ever found was righteous anger and an unwavering will.

So she imagines the annoying drawl of Zoro's voice when he's stubbornly refused to do anything but train, the boastful crows of Usopp at victory parties, the most sincere compliments Sanji has ever given her, Chopper's voice scolding her when she stays up too late, Franky's passion, Brook's half-murmured songs, Robin's laugh, and Luffy's smile. She collects all the best parts of her nakama and faces the day again, trains herself to become the best possible version of herself that she can be after two years on a floating island by herself. She tests herself and pushes herself so she can meet them again in two years, to compare them again to her memory and celebrate with them their accomplishments and mourn their losses.

She'll become something that won't let them get separated again; she'll learn the seas, the skies and every island she'll ever land on to help them escape and fight off any threat that comes after them.

They'll never be alone again, they'll never _have_ to go through this again.  _  
_

So really, most days she does alright. She can keep her promise to her captain.


End file.
